


Passing the Time

by Atsvie



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Boredom, Kissing, Leads to Stiles Blurting Things Out, M/M, Making Out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-11
Updated: 2012-11-11
Packaged: 2017-11-18 10:04:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/559772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atsvie/pseuds/Atsvie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So. Wanna make out?”</p><p>Stiles really didn’t expect Derek to take him seriously.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Passing the Time

Everything is stupid, Stiles decides with his fingers numb with cold in a pile of dead leaves. Omegas that run into their territory are stupid. Watching for that said omega well past the time he should be sleeping is stupid.

Splitting into teams and him getting stuck with Derek is stupid.

For the countless time that hour, Stiles sighs dramatically and watches his breath come out as a white fog. The only noise comes from him fidgeting, the rustle of leaves and his own conscious awareness of his own breathing. It’s too quiet and he’s tempted to fill the void with rambling but Derek has this tendency to shoot him the alpha glare of doom when he defaults to babble.

They’re stuck on a hill, or really just higher ground with an incline because everything is mostly level in the forest, waiting to see if this omega will run into them before it comes across the rest of the pack. The last half an hour has been uneventful and painfully boring, enough to where Stiles gave up on following the changing nuances in the woods; Derek will notice before he does anyways.

Subtly—or not, because Stiles has the grace of a bull in a China shop—he glances over at the werewolf a foot away from him. He’s leaning against a tree, thick arms crossed and face a stoic wall. Stiles wonders if he’s cold or if that leather jacket is as warm as it looks compared to his red hoodie.

“You wanna make out?”

Stiles doesn’t realize that he’s blurted it out until Derek’s brows knit together and his lips are cold from where his tongue runs over the bottom after speaking. And it’s not really his fault because he’s bored and Derek is attractive so when the two thought processes collide it’s out of his control. He’s not really serious, so he expects a gruff, “Shut up, Stiles” or maybe some form of mild bodily harm.

Derek shrugs. “Okay.”

Stiles blanches. “What? No, I mean it’s cold and I’m bored so I just kind of spoke and so I wasn’t actually asking you to because that would be crazy.”

Derek raises one of his stupid eye brows at him. “You offered,” he points out, and actually sounds slightly amused. But he hasn’t changed his posture or even the slight bitch face expression like nothing in the world will really phase him. Including Stiles’ mouth.

Or, Stiles’ mouth _talking_ at least.

“Oh my god, you’re serious.” Stiles is partially terrified and more than a little enthusiastic becauseholy fuckDerek Hale just nonchalantly agreed to make out with him.

“Stiles,” Derek’s voice is flat, “Come here.”

He scrambles to his feet, wiping his hands on his jeans because Stiles is a man of his word and it has nothing to do with Derek being really attractive despite all of the angst and sulk. “Are you going to hit me,” Stiles asks, legs a little wobbly before Derek reaches out so his hands are holding onto the teenager’s hips.

“You make it sound like I don’t want to,” Derek snorts.

“I don’t know what you want! I do not speak silent werewolf. I didn’t think that looming against trees equated wanting to make out, I’m literally making this shit up as I go, man,” Stiles says quickly, even more so when he realizes he’s getting closer to Derek because the older ignores what he’s saying and opts for leaning in.

“Alright, uh making out then, alright,” Stiles doesn’t squeak because that would undignified.

He feels Derek’s breath warm against his lips a moment before there’s pressure, lips against his. It’s all a little nerve wracking and he’s sure that Derek can hear his pulse thrumming under his skin, but he’s much more concerned about the fact that there’s a werewolf kissing him, holy mother of god he’s kissing someone—he’s kissing  _Derek._

Stiles makes up for inexperience with eagerness, returning the kiss fervently. Except Derek’s hands on his hips tightens a bit, like he’s trying to hold him down and tell him to slow down because this isn’t a freaking race. Derek kisses him thoroughly, it’s deep and not at all rushed like what Stiles had been trying to imitate. 

So he slows it down, gripping the leather of Derek’s jacket between his fingers as he tries to think a bit so he doesn’t completely mess this up. And he feels, the cold air against his flushed cheeks and the heat that radiates off of Derek; how Derek’s dry lips feel against his and how it’s nice that he doesn’t have to lean up or down because Derek is thick and muscular but just the right height for kissing.

He leans into the kiss, head dizzy with something pleasant. Stiles feels like he could maybe pass out in the woods right here, but Derek’s hands on his waist keep him grounded, the way he draws him closer is more than enough to keep him here. Especially when he feels Derek nibbling on his lip with blunt, human teeth; the action could almost be considered playful if it didn’t go straight to his cock.

It’s enough that Stiles parts his lips for him and it’s all a tangle of tongues and Derek’s tasting every corner of his mouth. Stiles just moans into his mouth, the sound muffled by wet kisses, and raises his arms so that he can tangle his fingers through Derek’s hair and maybe tug a bit. And oh god, Stiles feels Derek sucking lightly at his tongue and he almost loses it completely.

Derek tastes a lot like coffee and spices. It’s not sweet, but it’s something that Stiles finds himself trying to memorize because it’s a little more than intoxicating. So he pushes forward, his tongue licking into Derek’s mouth, teeth bumping together.

And then he’s being spun around so his back hits the tree. Derek is back to taking control over his mouth, which he’s really okay with because he’s starting to lose his mind in a mix of heat and lust anyways. It’s easy to lose himself in this, when he can pull at Derek’s hair and kiss him until he feels like his lips will be sore.

There’s a slight roll of his hips, trying to meet Derek’s because he’s so hard that it hurts. Derek offers a little friction, though Stiles would prefer being pressed against the tree with a lot more of the gyrating hips action.

“Oh god, ew! Gross!”

Thank you, Scott.

“I just hope you know that the omega passed by here _twice_ and you just let him because you’re….you’re,” Scott sounds like his brain is about to short circuit.

Derek pulls away and Stiles wipes his mouth against his sleeve, clearing his throat and trying not to glare at the rest of the pack.

Erica had actually felt the need to cover Isaac’s eyes with her hands.

“Jackson scared him off, though,” Boyd supplies, uninterested with the sex life of his alpha because he’s obviously the only reliable one in the pack.

“No thanks to you,” Scott mutters.

Stiles shrugs. “We got bored.”

Derek seems more disgruntled that they were interrupted than anything. Though he talks to Boyd about the omega and what their next move is like he hadn’t been shoving his tongue down Stiles’ throat two minutes earlier. But the way he tugs Stiles along, offering a hint of a smile gives Stiles a little hope that this isn’t going to be a one time thing.

His best friend throws his arms up, “I am so done!”

Which of course doesn’t really stop them from making out in the back of Stiles’ jeep later despite that Scott sends him angry text messages about hooking up with his alpha and the entire injustice of the situation.


End file.
